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On Saturday last week, Germany offered a stark portrait of its political scene. It appears to be a nation grappling with its past, its future and an unsettling present. Thousands took to the streets of German cities, rallying against the rise of the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD). Yet, on the same day, another event was unfolding that sent ripples far beyond Germany's borders. Over a video link, tech billionaire Elon Musk addressed an AfD election campaign gathering, delivering remarks that Europe's liberals thought were provocative and troubling.
“It's good to be proud of German culture, German values,” Musk asserted, “and not to lose that in some sort of multiculturalism that dilutes everything.” The statement might have been innocuous had it not been followed by his bold assertion: “Children should not be guilty of the sins of their parents, let alone their great grandparents. There is too much focus on past guilt, and we need to move beyond that.”
Trump & Co
The irony wasn't lost on many. Musk, who just days earlier had courted controversy for a gesture at Donald Trump's inauguration likened by some to a Nazi salute, now stood as the keynote virtual guest for a party deemed a “right-wing extremist” organisation by German security services. Adding fuel to the fire, Musk openly endorsed the AfD, declaring: “I'm very excited for the AfD; I think you're really the best hope for Germany. Fight for a great future for Germany.”
The endorsement marked Musk's second high-profile engagement with the far-Right party in recent weeks. Just days before that, he had interviewed party leader Alice Weidel on X, stoking concerns over election interference and platform bias.
A Teetering World Order
In the minds of the European establishment, Musk's defiant foray into German politics raises a larger, more ominous question: is this a preview of a new wave of transatlantic populism, with tech 'oligarchs' cheerleading their master in the White House? Ditching guilt might sit well with certain segments of Germany and Europe, but it strikes at the heart of the European project. The European Union, for all its flaws, is believed to have been built on a foundation of historical reckoning—a conscious effort to ensure that the horrors of the 20th century are neither forgotten nor repeated.
After President Trump's return to power, Europe finds itself confronting an emboldened America, where the transatlantic relationship seems less about partnership and shared values and more about power plays and transactional diplomacy. For many across the continent, it feels as if the whims of billionaires and a president unbound by the traditional Western playbook now dictate the agenda.
The post-World War II order, once a cornerstone of global stability, is teetering on the brink. Trump's statements on NATO and Europe, and his sweeping actions in just the first week of his new term, have sent shockwaves through European capitals. It's clear that Trump has returned with a sharper focus and a steely resolve to assert American dominance. A striking example came on Sunday when news broke that Trump had imposed a staggering 25% tariff on Colombia, one of America's closest allies and its largest trading partner in Latin America. The reason was the country's refusal to allow US military planes carrying undocumented Colombian immigrants to land on its soil. The move, viewed with dismay in Europe, looked like a stark warning to both friends and foes: cooperate or face consequences.
Trump Means Business
For European leaders, the message is unmissable. Trump's second term is about forcing others to toe America's line through sheer economic and political leverage. This bold—and many would say reckless—approach leaves Europe grappling with the unsettling reality that even long-standing allies aren't immune.
EU leaders and policymakers are scrambling to recalibrate their approach to a transatlantic relationship that appears increasingly one-sided. Trump's demands—slashing tariffs on American goods, forcing countries to raise their NATO contributions, and rolling back regulations on American tech giants—are reshaping US-EU dynamics. Unlike Joe Biden's coalition-driven diplomacy, Trump's second term threatens to redefine the relationship as one of coercion.
Europe, however, has only itself to blame. While China quietly fortified itself for Trump's potential return, Europe failed to draw lessons from his first term. Despite enduring his bullish style, the continent made little effort to prepare for his resurgence. Now, European leaders are left grappling with a key question: how much of Trump's rhetoric is posturing, and how much is a prelude to action
Among the few European leaders to recognise the growing vulnerability of the continent is French President Emmanuel Macron. He has long warned of the need for a stronger, more self-reliant Europe. Last year, he famously declared, “Europe can die, and that depends entirely on our choices.” Yet, despite Macron's calls for resilience, Europe remains deeply fractured and, many believe, is in a weaker position to face Trump 2.0 than it was during his first term.
A Transatlantic Tightrope
Tariffs and Trade:
Trump has long criticised what he sees as Europe's protectionist policies, particularly its tariffs on American goods. At Davos last week, he zeroed in on European duties on American cars, calling them unfair and warning of punitive actions if his demands for lower tariffs are not met. This aggressive posturing could spark trade tensions reminiscent of his first term, when tariff wars strained global markets. But the US President has a point. The European Union imposes a 10% tariff on imported American cars, while the US applies a lower tariff of 2.5% on cars imported from the EU. This disparity has been a significant point of contention NATO:
During his first presidency, Trump accused NATO members of freeloading off the US defence budget. Now, he is back with even more audacious demands. Trump has called for NATO members to contribute 5% of their GDP to defence—a figure so high it would strain the budgets of even the wealthiest nations of Europe. Trump's transactional approach to defence funding reduces the alliance to a “pay-to-play” arrangement, fundamentally altering its spirit of collective security. The implicit threat is stark, comply or face the possibility of the US questioning NATO's very relevance. Tech Regulation:
Trump's disdain for Europe's stringent regulations on US tech giants is no secret. At Davos, he singled out Google, accusing Europe of stifling American innovation with excessive fines and red tape. By framing this as an attack on American enterprise, Trump challenges Europe's sovereign right to govern its digital markets. Is Europe Bowing?
So far, European leaders have treaded lightly, avoiding direct confrontation with Trump. Publicly, they emphasise the importance of the transatlantic bond with warm words, even as his demands grow more unreasonable. But behind the diplomatic smiles lies a palpable unease. European leaders and experts fear that continued acquiescence will erode their foundational principles of sovereignty, the rule of law and the collective strength derived from unity.
The European press, often vocal on transatlantic matters, has also been unusually subdued, reflecting a broader reluctance to provoke Trump.
However, silence, as history teaches us, comes with a cost. Europe faces a moment of reckoning. Should it play second fiddle to an increasingly assertive US? Or should it push back, risking the relationship but asserting its sovereignty and values? The ancient Greek historian and war chronicler, Thucydides, would've perhaps described it thus: “The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must.”
(Syed Zubair Ahmed is a London-based senior Indian journalist with three decades of experience with the Western media)